


Decode

by FairytaleofNewDork



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, Multi, i cant tag idk ive never used this before ;_;, on the bus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:00:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairytaleofNewDork/pseuds/FairytaleofNewDork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Skye is bored on the Bus her not-quite-girlfriend-but-practically-is, Jemma, gives her a present to help her pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decode

Skye is tapping at her computer uselessly, bored out of her mind and waiting for a mission, or for news, or for _something_ interesting to happen, when Jemma appears behind her. She leans over and slowly closes the lid of the laptop, eventually leaning further forward to wrap her arms around Skye’s shoulders and press a kiss to the side of her cheek.

Skye groans in response, feeling lethargic and slow and like she’d rather be chased by a Rhino than sitting in the lounge area with nothing to do. She’d gotten used to having to move here there and everywhere living in her van, constantly focused on the importance of survival and not getting tickets and avoiding some unfavourable characters. The Bus had been a welcome change, allowing her to sleep in and have a comfortable bed and not need to worry about everything at once. The worry came in little bursts of missions- sometimes she didn’t sleep at all- she was well suited, she felt, given her history, but now… No missions and Coulson’s suggestion of ‘Why don’t you try relaxation?’ had her itching for a major mission or a project to set herself on…

As it was she was feeling uncreative. Sure she could hack but even that had become same-y and nothing seemed to satisfy her need to overcome her insurmountable boredom. She rests her head back against Jemma and closes her eyes, hands instinctively holding onto the scientists wrists before she can pull away. She inhales deeply at the smell that is distinctively Jemma and tries to allow herself to be content with this distraction. It kind of works. For a second.

“Just popping up to get some food for Fitz- I can’t stay long. He’s always hungry, that boy…”

Skye grumbles nonsense in response, unwilling to let Jemma untangle her arms, though she makes another attempt to. There’s a soft chuckle at the back of her neck and Skye feels the hairs rise there just before Simmons presses a peck to them. “Still bored, hmm?”

The noise Skye makes in her throat this time is one of agreement, but Jemma seems to find it amusing nonetheless. Jemma props her chin up on Skye’s head and Skye wills herself not to feel fidgety. She can’t. She keeps switching between slow and tired to buzzing with energy and she needs to do something. She’s about to launch out of her seat in frustration and demand Jemma let her assist in the lab, when Jemma sways her gently.

“I was going to give you a present for a more special occasion… but I can give you it now if you promise not to cheat?” She murmurs against Skye’s ear, and when the darker haired girl nods in agreement, she knows she’s lying instinctively- a present that you can cheat at? Skye’s pretty sure nothing could keep her from getting at that. Especially in her current situation.

Jemma promises to bring it back after she fetches Fitz coffee and some biscuits, and Skye practically vibrates in her seat, legs restless and whole body thrumming with excitement. A present? She wonders what occasion it was meant to be for. Is there an occasion upcoming? She’s trying to wonder the possibilities of cheating at a present when Jemma returns, not laden with any boxes, big or small, and Skye frowns and tilts her head in confusion.

The present, as it happens, is a singular rectangle of paper, with the numbers _1720234137233_ written carefully in Jemma’s delicate cursive across it. Jemma hands her it shyly, the light tinge of a blush colouring her cheeks as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and scuffs her foot against the lounge carpet. Skye blinks twice at the paper, and then twice at Jemma, underwhelmed and clueless

“There’s more!” Jemma hurries to explain, at Skye’s blank expression, “You’ll get more later-  I was saving it-but I just- I thought- you know, I figured this would do for now. There’s more for later…”

She would explain that she’s not bothered by the _amount_ of gifts, nor does she particularly mind the size- Jemma could make her a tiny origami crane and Skye would stick it proudly with blue tack to the bedside-shelf thing going on in her bunk. She’s confused, however, on the _‘what’_ of this gift, and looks back at the numbers, wondering what they’re for. She’s is about to open her mouth to ask, when Jemma quickly supplies, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out” and scurries off back down to the labs.

Kind of unhelpful, to be honest.

When the first thing she does is copy the string of numbers into Google, figuring it’s not cheating if she doesn’t use a special programme for it, she’s surprised discover it doesn’t match any documents. Two seconds later her laptop blinks once before shutting down, and she stares at it in horror as she sees a small bit of smoke float out the fan at the back.

“No-no-no-no-no! Don’t you dare leave me!”

She finds Fitz in the lab along with Jemma, and he looks up curiously over his cup of coffee as she bustles straight over to him, smashing at the power button and hitting the keys on her laptop. He looks so affronted by her attack on the laptop she would laugh if she didn’t one hundred percent believe she was in dire mortal peril.

“It’s dead! It died! It’s completely _gone,_ it just” she waves around her hand that had been pressing the keys and on-button, making a vague ‘Poof!’ sound as she does “ _Fitz_ , you’re my friend -my pal- you can’t let it end like this, not after we’ve been through so much- you’ve gotta help a girl out-“

Her melodramatics seem to just irritate him further but he takes the laptop out of her hands anyway. He then promptly puts it down on the counter and says, “I’ll look at it later. I’m busy fixing a-“and that’s the last bit of English she understands as he launches into some explanation about whatever is already taking up the main amount of space on the counters in front of him. Her groans and mock whining don’t persuade him either, and eventually Jemma shoos her out of the lab.

When she’s on her way out she realises.

“It was you.” She whispers with wide eyes, pointing at Jemma, who is honest enough to look away guiltily as she manages to usher Skye out of the lab doors. She’s too shocked to do much more than watch the doors shut on her face, mouth agape and finger still pointing accusingly as Jemma offers a guilt ridden mouthing of the word “Sorry!” before turning away from her. Skye rips the rectangular piece of paper out of her pocket, staring at the digits. They offer no apologies for her laptop, still smoking slightly on Fitz’s side of the lab. Frustrated she wishes she’d just used the programmes on her laptop first to figure out its meaning. Maybe then she’d already know what this godforsaken number was for.

She privately curses her assumption Jemma would never find out if she tried to cheat, and wanders back up to the lounge, minus one laptop.

*

After staring at Jemma’s neat handwriting for what feels like an hour (but is much more likely 10 minutes) she is no closer to figuring out what the numbers are for, let alone their meaning, so she finds Ward making some sort of maxed out protein sandwich in the kitchen, and decides to ask him.

“Hey, _friend.”_ She stresses, bright smile in place as she skips up to his side, leaning against the counter. He doesn’t even glance away from the sandwich (that is already the size of both of his fists combined) when he replies.

“What do you want, Skye?”

“Should I be offended? Because I am.”

“Good.”

“That really hurts Ward _._ I’m _wounded._ You sure know how to cut a girl down with that rich vocabulary of yours. _”_  

This time he looks at her but only to shoot a dark glare her way. Her cheeky smile drops when he remains stoic.

“Ok, fine, whatever, don’t get your undies in a twist Mr Happy, I was just wondering if you knew anything about this? J-er- Simmons gave me it.”

She hands him the piece of paper hopefully, and he stares at it a while. She’s about to crack a joke about hearing the gears whirring in his head and how she’s sure she can see smoke (she feels a twinge at the sudden flashback to her laptop awaiting Fitz’s healing hands in the lab), when he suddenly looks up and hands the paper back quickly. Maybe the laptop-incident has made her too distrustful too quickly, but she’s certain there was something suspicious about the calculated stare he offered it and the oh-so-quick pass back to her.

He goes back to lavishing his sandwich with attention without a word.

“Well?” she asks, impatiently, squinting at him. He shakes his head, putting a piece of god-knows-what-meat-that-even-is into his mouth while he adds yet another layer to his sandwich. “Dunno.” He answers with a shrug. She groans and pushes off the side dramatically.

“Thanks for the terrific analysis, Wardbot.”

He shrugs and as she goes (swinging her arms like a petulant child) he calls, “Ask May. She might give you a clue.”

Well at least he’s good for one thing.

*

She finds May in the cockpit, ray bans on, looking too cool to be a real living breathing person. She doesn’t turn when Skye comes in and she has to cough gradually louder for May to even turn her head slightly to one side and ask, “ _What is it Skye?”_ through clenched teeth. Oh. So she totally already knew she was here. Whoops.

“Oh! Sorry. I didn’t- I just-“Eventually she’s not sure how to ask so she just thrusts the piece of paper forward. May spares one glance at it before saying, “Code” and turning back to face the front of the bus.

“How do you know?” Skye says, confused.

“I’m just that good.” _Unhelpful and highly suspicious,_ Skye can’t help but think, but allows May the benefit of the doubt. Given the snippets she knows of Mays history, it’s highly likely she _is_ just that good.

“So you know what it says?” Skye asks hopefully, into the silence that follows. May doesn’t move or reply so after a while Skye mutters “Ok I get it” and walks back to the lounge area to stare at the numbers some more, hoping May’s hint might be enough to get the ball rolling.

*

She gets approximately nowhere. She figures the numbers must correspond to the alphabet in some way but she’s written out the alphabet and the numbers to each underneath and none of it makes sense. Not to mention there’s no way of knowing which numbers are part of the same number. The first letter could correspond to 1, or it could be to 17. Or bigger, since Jemma is apparently a mean genius.

At one point she wildly came to the conclusion it had to do with something science like the periodic table of elements because _its Jemma,_ but after squinting at the periodic table up in the lab from outside the doors (earning her amused looks from both Jemma and Fitz) she gave up. Trying “1 = H” had at first made her feel she might be getting headway on whatever the numbers meant, but with this system the next number(s) either were “7=N” or “72=Hf”. Unhappy with the idea of a word beginning Hn, or Hhf, she thought for a moment she might have started wrong and the first number was actual “17”; however that route quickly proved false too. There were too many possibilities, especially as she didn’t understand all the science- surely Jemma wouldn’t be so cruel? Skye may have dropped out of college but she knew there were more numbers to the elements than that. But why use them?

With multiple attempts unsuccessful and no hints other than May’s ever-so-slight push in the right _idea_ of the numbers, Skye felt that familiar buzz set about her person. She’s surprised that over an hour has gone by, the scribbling down of various attempts clearly distracting her sufficiently. But she needs to figure it out _now._ The feeling is comparable with trying to walk forward into a brick wall. She feels like a video game character glitching and unable to just _move around_ the bloody thing.

With only one person left she figures might help her out, she dares to try AC. He calls her into his office when she knocks and he gives her that thin lipped smile, asking, “What can I do for you, Skye?”

She realises he’d been in the process of dusting his collection of thingys and mabobs. “I was wondering if you could help me with this code I need to crack,” she ventures holding out the card. At the raised eyebrows she receives when he takes it, she explains: “I was bored- so I was given-“ she gestures at the paper and he just looks amused, “-you know to figure out- since I was bored-“ She stops and starts over. “my laptop may or may not have been sabotaged by Fitzsimmons. I mean I’m pretty sure Jemma’s idea of sabotage at my cheating would be a lot less subtle… Fitz is the only person I know capable of such a crime.” At Coulson’s expression she lamely finishes, “I’m too scared to try again on my phone, because... sort of need the internet to live.”

Coulson takes one more look at the card before he looks back to Skye. He raises his eyebrows in surprise and holds the rectangle up “You’re telling me Jemma gave you this?”

She nods, staring at the little card. She knows she was told to figure it out, but she didn’t realise it’d be some sort of hunt just to understand it. She can practically remember all of the numbers in order by now, she’s looked at it so many times. A code… a code for what? Will this crack a word and when she’s done Jemma will give her another? Or maybe it’s a location of a more real physical present. She’s not sure. At this point just knowing what it’s meant to say would be relief enough to satisfy her. Well, to satisfy this particular itch for now.

After looking at it a while, just like Ward, he hands it back silently.

“So? Do you know what it says?” He doesn’t answer when he picks up his duster again. He looks at her, eyes twinkling, thin lipped smile still in place.

“Actually, codes were never my strong suit. Have you already asked May?”

She has a strong feeling he’s lying and they’re all trying to mess with her, but she relents anyway.

“Yes. She’s the one who told me it was a code, and Ward before her was too busy with his sandwich to care.”

“Really? Wards pretty good with codes. Maybe you should ask him again.” She squints at him for a bit trying to figure out his tell but he just does that annoyingly calm and happy smile.

She stomps off to find Ward again. Unhappily.

*

When she finds him, he’s in the lounge in the seat she was in that morning, watching tv with a plate full of crumbs still on his lap. 

He’s watching some show she’s never even seen gifs off, so she figures it must be pretty awful, and is proved right when a character says some horrible unfunny line and a laughing track is played over the sound of the soul crushing silence that she assumes must be filling the studio wherever it was filmed. To her absolute horror, Ward cracks a smile and she even thinks he hears him _guffaw_ , but before she can even consider the way she wants to try to process that image, his eyes land on her. He sits up, placing the plate on the table in front of him before resting his elbows on his wide open legs. She has a fleeting thought about how men should really be more inclined to close their legs and protect their valuables at all costs when he asks, eyes full of mirth:

“You figured that code out yet?”

She purses her lips and throws the little piece of paper at him in annoyance, but it merely spirals away to the right and lands on the floor, and she plonks herself into the seat couch, pulling her legs up to her chest. She’s too needy to be embarrassed when she literally _whines_ at Ward, throwing her head back.

“Pleeeeease… You’re meant to be my S.O. You’re meant to _want_ to help me.” He shakes his head at her actions, amused, but she’s almost at the point of grovelling. “Ward, _please,_ I’ll be super good. Just _tell me._ Give me a hint. Come on. Ward. _Please_. Ward, Ward, Ward-“

Though he had half-heartedly attempted to get back into the god-awful show he had somehow tuned into, at her incessant use of his name (and his awareness that one of her few strong points is stubbornness) he sighs.

“Give it here.”

She snatches up the bit of paper and hands it to Ward excitedly. He plunges one hand deep into the pocket of his trousers (-she briefly wonders why guys have such deep pockets. Or so many. She’s truly baffled-) and pulls out a pen. He then starts writing on the paper, in little quick flicks of motion and when he flicks it back to her, she scrambles to catch it in the air, excited at the prospect of finally-

“What the-? _Ward!_ ”

Rather than the decoded message or _half_ decoded message she was so looking forward to, she finds instead sketchy lines between half the numbers at the beginning. She scowls at him and is about to thrust the paper back at him and demand he fix it when he smiles smugly and raises his hands in mock defence.

“I’m under orders.” Is his response, and he smirks and reclines back into his chair to continue watching his show. She lets out a huff, frustrated by the turn of events but glad to have been given at least some sort of hint, and looks back to the paper. Where “1720234137233” was before, she now finds, “17/20/23/4137233”.

She can’t help but be thankful that there is some sort of method to the code. It’s not just a string of random numbers, and she’s not just on a wild goose chase… Well. At least she hopes she’s not.

*

She decides to start from the beginning again. She writes out the alphabet and the corresponding numbers underneath. Frustratingly 17 = Q. She thinks for a moment she’s getting somewhere, but turns out to be wrong. 21 is a U, which is promising. 20? 20 is T. She’s pretty sure there aren’t any words that start with QT.

She decides to pray against the odds and check 23, thinking “QT- Pie” might somehow be involved in this, unlikely as it is that Jemma would ever use “QT” rather than the correct “Cutie” but she has a go anyway. No such luck, unsurprisingly. 23 with the code she has devised corresponds to W.

Clearly she’s still far away from any sort of conclusion.

She stares at it a while, wondering if she’s even using the right sort of format. She’s been told it’s a code, but what if that was to put her off the scent? To keep her busy perhaps? What if this was an elaborate prank or ruse made collectively by the team as some sort of horrible bonding exercise, where she was the thing bringing them all together? Cruel to her perhaps, but she could understand the humour in it. But Jemma had given her the numbers specially. And shyly.

And she’s going to tear the paper to shreds and withhold kisses (and perhaps more) from Jemma unless she reveals whatever the numbers mean, or at the very least offers another hint.

When she knocks against the glass of the lab doors startling Fitzsimmons, Fitz makes himself look busy with whatever item he’s pretending requires assistance over her laptop, whilst Jemma, bright eyed and smiling hurries towards Skye. Skye notices that at the pout she’s wearing however, Jemma seems surprised and her smile goes from uncertain and shy to wide and playful.

She presses the button to open the locked doors with her elbows, hands still wearing her gloves (which seem covered in goo) and safety-goggles still perched atop her nose.

“Haven’t got it yet?” She teases, and Skye’s tummy does that thing it always does at Jemma’s playful-voice. Skye’s pouting is rewarded with a quick peck as she grumbles no and declares, “This is _way_ worse than just being bored.”

Jemma’s eyes seem to twinkle at this before, carefully as not to touch Skye with her gloves on, she rocks up on her tiptoes and presses another longer, deeper kiss to Skye’s mouth. This makes Skye mildly happier and for a moment she forgets that she’s bored and that her pretty-much-girlfriend is unable to spend time with her because she’s got busy clever science things to be doing. They pull apart after Fitz’s second, exaggerated cough (which seems to be more like him gagging now that Skye shoots him a scowl).

“I couldn’t bribe you for a hint could I?” Skye asks lowly after Fitz turns his back to offer them some ounce of privacy. Whilst Jemma grins, her whole body leaning towards Skye as if pulled by some force, she shakes her head. At Skye’s head tripping back and groaning again, she hears a giggle and is met with the sight of Jemma scrunching her nose in adoration.

Skye really can’t help the smile she tries to supress, and Jemma clumsily presses a kiss to her lips, pursed in their attempt to reign in the obvious grin she wants to wear.

“You’re cute.” Jemma says simply, and Skye pouts, puppy-dog eyes on.

“So cute you’ll give me a hint?” She tries in a pathetic baby voice and Jemma merely smiles sweetly at her again cocking her head and ignoring her want for answers.

“Did you try Ward?”

She nods, maintaining her pout.

“May?”

She nods again and before Jemma can ask, “ _And_ AC. _Please.”_ She adds jokingly, _“_ I even had to go see Ward _twice_ and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone-”

She shrinks when she hears a monotone “I heard that.” from behind her and ducks her head around to see Ward lazily sauntering down the stairs.

“I was just wondering how you were getting on.” He says as he slips into the front of the lab to join them, looking around as if disinterested. Skye knows him better than that.

“You’re interrupting her attempt at sweet-talking!” Fitz supplies from over his shoulder as he fumbles around and Ward cracks a smile at that, wandering closer to glance at the various bits and pieces around Fitz’s work space.

“Oh really?” He asks, glancing back at Skye, smile changing from happy to smug, specifically to annoy her. He crosses his arms as if he doesn’t want to be there despite planting his feet squarely. She notes how he seems to feel comfortable in Fitz’s space.

Skye chooses not to answer, instead merely propping out her hip and shooting him an unimpressed glare.

“Going well then?” He asks, not her but Jemma at Skye’s lack of response. Jemma ends up looking to Skye anyway, her hands still raised around her shoulders to avoid accidental touches.

“Mmm. She’s getting better I must admit.” It comes with an unusually cheeky smile, eyes never leaving Skye’s face.

Skye scoffs. “Is this Bully Skye Day? Don’t you have work to do?” She shoots Ward a look and he rolls his eyes before picking up something at Fitz’s desk (glancing first at Fitz… probably to check he’s not looking).

Rather than Ward leaving her to continue to beg for her answers, the last person she wanted to get back to work does.

“Oh, yes-!“ Jemma says thoughtfully to herself, brain suddenly back in the science, before stepping out of Skye’s personal bubble and hurrying back to the weird alien looking stuff on her desk. Jemma has assured her before it’s not alien… but Skye doesn’t really care. It looks freaky and green and gooey. She misses Jemma’s closeness immediately.

Ward seems to feel that he’s done his job in ruining Skye’s life because at that he smiles at Fitz (who Skye thinks is side eyeing him for being too near his stuff) and decides that yes, he _should_ now leave them to do their work. He sends Skye his dumb smug smirk and it reminds Skye of the face the Brody’s family dog would make just after it farted.

She decides not to voice that pleasantry, though she has to stifle down a snort, coughing loudly when Fitz raises his eyebrow.

“Jemma?” She tries again, holding up the piece of paper to Jemma’s turned back, now further in the lab. “No hints?” She questions when she doesn’t turn. Jemma looks up from her work distractedly.

“Oh!” Jemma seems to remember that Skye is there. And needs answers. And generally remembers that they were even conversing only a moment ago. She slips back to Skye’s side, presses a chaste kiss and says in a hushed tone, “Start with S.”

As quickly as she’d came, she’s gone, back to looking at her work as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. Skye’s mildly jealous.

Leaving, she spares a glance at her laptop, no longer smoking but still sitting sadly on its lonesome.

She sighs a little, before going on her way.

*

‘Start with S’ could mean a number of things.

In fact if Jemma is as clever as she looks (and she looks very clever. And pretty. Which Skye has found is an interesting and enjoyable combination. To look at. Also because defying common stupid stereotypes… not the point though-) S could mean anything. Starting with S could literally mean anything. S could stand for something, like a chemical or a place or maybe she said “E.S.S” and it stands for something…

And maybe Skye is reading too much into it.

So she starts with S. The letter kind.

She can’t be bothered to rewrite the alphabet so she uses the paper she was before, drawing a line and starting again...

If 17 is S, then 20 is V. An acceptable start, she supposes. This makes 23, Y.

And then she’s not sure what numbers are what. Logically she concludes the next number is 4. There isn’t a 41 in the alphabet if the code is even _working_ off the alphabet. 4 is F.

She’s starting to feel her hopes of an answer slipping away. She can’t think of works beginning with “ Svyf”.

Maybe it’s not English, she settles to believe for now. Perhaps Jemma knows different languages? Swedish perhaps? Clutching at straws keeps her together to finish the rest of the word.

Svyfoiye.

“Start with S” she mutters, crumpling the paper up and throwing it to the floor.

She writes the alphabet again. “Start with S. Start with S… Start with _S. Start.”_

Boredom is not worth losing her mind.

When it finally hits her, it hits her like a truck. She launches at the pen and paper, scribbling the alphabet furiously.

S=1…  
T=2…  
U=3…

She scribbles. And scribbles.

17 is I.

20 is L.

She knows what it’s going to say but she can’t believe it took her this long.

(To decode or to realise what Jemma had been trying to make her realise.)

*

She see’s Jemma at dinner time, but most of the meal is pre-packaged stuff, microwave ready food that at the very least is better than typical plane food. Or at least she is assured. Skye hasn’t really flown on that many planes before… Ever. So she thinks it’s all pretty good.

She keeps up a charade of not knowing through dinner, letting Ward tease and bully her and pouting at Jemma as everyone chats and jokes. Coulson and May share a look between them at some points, when Skye uses her body to shove Jemma slightly when they eat, but say nothing.

And they laugh and they eat and Coulson tells them tomorrow will likely be a busy day.

*

Skye goes to her bunk at the look that Coulson sends her when he spots her hovering around Jemma’s but ultimately says nothing.  She thinks it a little strange, as she doesn’t remember he’d particularly cared before, but settles for sneaking around later.

It’s in the middle of the night when she creeps a couple of bunks down, past Fitz’s snores. It’s small but Jemma lets her in with a sleepy yawn, contorted into half a smile, already in her pyjamas. Once the door closes, the quiet buzz of the bus grows quiet outside, Skye stands awkwardly. She sleeps here, sleeps in Jemma’s bunk all the time but she feels different _knows_ its different.

Jemma looks up at her with curious eyes, analysing her expression, before stepping forward, hands moving to play with the buttons on her night shirt.

“What’s wrong?” She questions, worry in her voice. Skye shakes her head and smiles. They’re close, they’re always close, Jemma rubbing slightly at Skye’s chest just above her heart to soothe her. In the dim light of the room she hesitates only a moment before she’s pressing kisses to Jemma’s mouth, tiny soft kisses again and again…

Jemma relaxes slightly, and returns them, and as they grow heated, longer, more forceful, Skye knows she has to say what’s on her mind.

“I figured it out. Before dinner.” She gasps as she breaks the kiss. Dazed, cheeks flushed with heat, Jemma takes second to register what this means.

“Oh.” She says.

“Oh.” Skye repeats. She feels ridiculous but she doesn’t know what to say.

“Is- that is ok isn’t it?” Jemma asks nervously, worrying her lower lip between her teeth, squinting her eyes as she watches Skye’s reaction.

Skye laughs. “We were starting to make out like teenagers in the back of a car. Of course its ok, it’s more than ok-“

Arms wrapped around Jemma’s waist they hug, Jemma up on her tiptoes with her arms tight around Skye. They both laugh, giddy and ridiculous and very much like teenagers in love, swaying ever so slightly, before Jemma turns her head and seeks Skye’s lips. She presses kisses through her smile onto Skye’s cheek as she goes, and Skye feels like the only way her heart could feel more connected to Jemma’s was if it leapt out of her chest.

A gross thought, but an accurate description of her feelings.

“Thanks for keeping me entertained,” she mutters against Jemma’s lips. Jemma makes an agreeing noise in the back of her throat but otherwise continues her ministrations.  

“I didn’t realise the whole team knew.”

“I sent them a message before I gave you it so they wouldn’t give it away.”

Skye briefly thinks there are better ways to come out to your team mates about your kind-of-not-so secret relationship, but finds other matters more pressing right now.

“They’re ok with it?” She questions. Jemma ignores her, kissing the underside of her jaw.  She gasps a little at a playful nip on her neck.

“Jemma?”

“Mhm.”

“…What about S.H.I.E.L.D protocol?”

Jemma pulls away and raises an eyebrow, clearly wanting to move this along. “Since when have you cared about following rules?”

Skye shrugs. “I don’t I just thought they’d-“

Jemma silences her with a kiss. “They don’t care as long as we’re careful. I’m sure we’ll hear more about it tomorrow.”

Nodding, Skye decides the equal measure of nervousness and happiness is an appropriate feeling.

“I mean, why would they care? I’m training for field ops and you’re not so it’s not like that should-“

The nip on her throat is a bit harder this time.

“Sorry.” She mutters. After Jemma kisses her again, all soft and slow and teasing, Jemma’s night shirt mostly unbuttoned and Skye’s riding up her stomach, Skye sighs happily.

“I love you.” She tests. Jemma stills and merely looks at Skye for a moment, drinking in the sight of the dim light reflected on her wide eyes, cheeks dusty with blush and lips parted and wet.

“I love you too.” Jemma says with a smile.  


“So… official?” Skye asks, as Jemma helps tug the shirt over her head. Better to make sure than realise they were on different pages.

“Definitely official.”

Jemma’s pleased, adorable smile quickly grows sly. “Now I think it’s time for you to keep _me_ entertained-“

As she’s dragged the small bed in Jemmas bunk, Skye shakes her head and laughs quietly.

“Ok, but keep it down this time- I don’t need Fitz giving me those scandalised looks in the lab again.”

**[end.]**

**Author's Note:**

> Ahaha I can't write smut maybe some other time. o///o  
> *just really wanted to post this and get it out the way really, its not even good... someone might like it though.*  
> Lets happily pretend the whole team would be fine with discovering their relationship like this:  
> "Hey, Skye is gonna ask you to help her with a code probably, but don't help her. Give her small hints if anything. So you're not surprised the message says 'I love you' and is from me to her. She's not declaring her love for you. Yeah. We're totally gonna be together officially now hope thats ok bye - Simmons"
> 
> Im sorry, i'll write better things in the future and actually find myself a beta or something instead of just posting crap~


End file.
